A windowless room in the sky. And she dances there. Nobody can see her. Nobody to watch her motions. When nobody is watching, every move is flawless. Every spin is perfect. Every leap is without fault. The music plays in her head. She doesn’t need another beat to tell her where to step, where to twirl, where to jump.

And now she’s down from the sky, back from her windowless room. To her glass house where the world watches inquisitively. They don’t know she doesn’t like being watched. They are simply curious. They only want to see her dance. She shows no one, though, because the dance will no longer be perfect.

Windowless rooms fascinate me. There is something wonderfully safe about them, but at the same time, horribly claustrophobic. I think what matters is the size. If it is a small windowless room, it is claustrophobic. If it is massive, it becomes safe. Nobody can see in. Nobody can see out. What happens in the windowless room stays in the windowless room.

Everyone has their own room. Some people don’t utilize it. Others have such a tiny room that they hate it and try to get out. But I have a huge room. It’s nearly a mansion. My imagination is so huge, that the room is filled with beauty and wonder and expands nearly every night to hold even more.

Some people want to be able to control what takes place in the windowless room. They call this “lucid dreaming.” I have heard it referred to as an “opening of the third eye.” Sometimes I can control what happens in my room. Sometimes certain people will come in and I will disintegrate them with my mind. Once in a while I am aware enough as to furnish the room. However, the trick is to not force control. Lucid dreaming is just an excuse for being overly controlling. In the windowless room, another force is in control. It is one of the most powerful forces in the world and can rarely be controlled by any external factors.

This would be the subconscious. It’s the gray, fuzzy part of your memory that subtly injects thoughts into your consciousness, and actions into your bones. It is the cause of “why did I do that?” moments, and the source of sudden inspiration. It is the mastermind, the ultimate controller, behind every motion, every thought, every feeling. It will not be controlled.

While this controller cannot be forced to do one’s bidding, it can be influenced, albeit subtly. I initially thought the windowless room was for my own enjoyment. Most of the stories I wrote were simply transcripts of the proceedings in that room. My mood for the day was often determined by the things I saw in that room. I do not believe that, anymore, though. I try to resist its influence as much as physically possible. That room is my one opportunity to influence my subconscious or at least understand its natural bent. I have become somewhat of a friend to my subconscious. Sometimes, I can even identify when it is trying to take control of my mind. It becomes easier to block out the bizarre inclinations it provides. I pay careful attention in that room. It tells me everything I need to know about the evil little spirit hiding in my mind.

But I still love the room and I still utilize it to the fullest of my abilities. Inside, I don’t matter. But nobody else does either. Inside the room is perfection, because no one is around to say that it’s anything less than perfect. I just have to remember to stay alert.